


Megido

by Corvid_Knight



Series: Demonstuck [59]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Demonstuck, Gen, mention of doc scratch - Freeform, repeated stabbing, the midnight crew did NOT ask for a daughter but they have one now, very oblique mention of abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-15
Updated: 2020-01-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:00:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22267558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corvid_Knight/pseuds/Corvid_Knight
Summary: You should knock. Unfortunately you do not think of that until the door's already open, which means that here and now is the very first time Megido stabs you.The Midnight Crew goes from four members to five, thanks to a new addition straight from the powers that be.It's...a bit rough for everyone.
Series: Demonstuck [59]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1003470
Comments: 49
Kudos: 101





	1. Chapter 1

Peregrine is wholly capable of giving you a friendly head's-up before she drops in. You know she is, because if you or one of the other three members of the crew happens to be outside of the boundaries of what's been marked as your current territory, she _does_ tell you beforehand. Sure, you're thankful for that—it'd get at least painful and just maybe messy if she just provoked the near-painful call to the summoning circle willy-nilly, blind to how far away any of the crew might be—but it's still a god damn annoyance when you do get drawn down without warning. 

To add another insult on top of that insult, Hearts and Clubs beat you down to the basement. Your distraction at wondering if she warned _them_ and not you just about gets you run down, in fact. You're the one who has to steady Diamonds, though—he must have been in the kitchen, still has the spatula in his hand as you wrap an arm around his shoulders and steady him at the edge of the piebald circle. He had to have been cooking and resisted Peregrine's sirensong long enough to make everything safe, and the effort's cost him. 

So you're starting at this encounter doubly irritated—both for yourself and for Diamonds. Not very auspicious at all. 

At least you manage to keep that annoyance from growing into full-blown ire, even if that's due to Diamond's unexpected ability to stay on his feet. Well, mostly on his feet. He's fine leaned up against you, but when the first sparks light up at the core of the circle, he straightens up, pulls away, staggers a few steps and only doesn't go down because Clubs sidesteps and takes your place as support. 

He's fine. It's under control. You turn your attention back to the circle and find that Peregrine's already made her appearance—she's standing there with her white-feathered wings present but folded back behind her. You _hate_ it when she does that. The whole point of showing her wings is so she's bigger than anyone else in the room, and the smirk on that pretty face lets you know that she _knows_ it. 

"Delivery!" Peregrine chirps much too cheerfully. Alright, so maybe she does have a reason to have her wings out. Not like she can perform her official duties when she's not in official guise, after all.

Wait. Back up. What would she even have to deliver to you and your crew? More to the point, from whom?

Eh. Only way you can find out is to go along with it, you guess. "...is this something I need to sign for, or?" 

"Some _one._ " 

"What." 

"Someone, not something." Peregrine's feathers rustle as she steps aside, showing...

"Oh, hell." Of all the things you're ready to see, a girl isn't even nearly on the list. You're not really sure how old she was—somewhere between _not actually a child_ and _younger than you are_. Unfortunately you are not sure how old you yourself actually are, which complicates things quite a bit. 

She looks...Asian? Again, some of the memories you're missing (if you ever had them) are the ones that'd let you guess if she's Japanese or Chinese or...something else entirely. (You're actually not totally confident that both of those are countries, come to think of it.) Her much-too-short schoolgirl's uniform somehow clashes with the intricate arrangement of long black hair held in place with a pair of needles maybe a foot long, and the scowl on her face doesn't match either of them. 

"...you know what, I changed my mind. I ain't signing for her." 

"Sorry, Spades." Peregrine rolls her eyes at your weak attempt to _not_ be used as some kind of babysitter, one wing spreading to nudge the girl forward. (The murderous scowl evaporates when Peregrine touches her, but you notice that her body language is still nothing short of _furious._ ) "No return address, you see. The powers that be decided to give her...let's call it a rebate." 

"No idea what that means." 

"It means you're her custodians until she adjusts to being alive again." 

_Again_? But no, you're not going to ask. Not about that, at least. It's not like you don't count as being _alive again_ too. "...damn. Fine. You got a name, kid?" 

The kid in question scowls at you. You're not really sure what you did to deserve that, other than the (in your opinion) totally understandable reluctance to just take custody of her. You _really_ don't deserve her answer, which is just to hold up both hands, all fingers but the middle ones curled into fists. At least she's not shy about telling you exactly how she feels. 

Alright, so maybe you're going to like this kid. 

"She's the Handmaid," Peregrine answers, once it's become clear that the girl isn't going to. You focus on her again, and see that with her dramatic reveal accomplished, she's folded her wings out of existence again. "She's been told about you four already—no need to try to decide how much to explain to her." 

Implying any one of your crew gives a shit about how many bargains you've made to keep your feet planted in the land of the living. That's not what you're going to question, though. "How the hell is that a name?" 

Oh, you're not going to like Peregrine's answer. She _never_ smiles like that when she's going to say something you'll like. That smile is reserved for shit that you'll hate enough for her to be happy about it in advance. 

"And _Spades_ is a better name?" 

Well...damn. "Stop laughing, Clubs."

* * *

The current base has three bedrooms, to fit the new total of five people. It's not as big an issue as the math would suggest, though—at any given time, one out of the four members of the crew either isn't sleeping or is sleeping exclusively on the couch, and two more'll be bunking together. Who's doing what changes on a near seasonal cycle, but the ratio stays pretty damn consistent. 

Right now you're the one spending time on the couch (the night terrors ain't hitting quite so hard this way) and it's Hearts and Clubs in the room that's near always got an extra pallet made up on the floor. You leave the other three down to finalize whatever needs to be finalized, and head upstairs to check what's in the extra room. 

Not much, as it turns out. You shove the two hats left on the bed as far back on the shelf in the closet as you can get them, stash the knife you find in the top dresser drawer in one jacket pocket and the revolver from the bottom drawer in the other, and turn around to find that the Handmaid's followed you up. 

She's leaning against the doorframe. Blocking your way out, actually. "Uh. This one's your room, if you hadn't figured that out yet." 

She just stares at you. In this light, just slightly better than that of the basement, you see that her dark eyes aren't actually black but a deep, rich shade of burgundy. Funny; until right now you sort of thought she was human. 

And she still hasn't answered you. Or moved. "...you _do_ speak English, right?" 

That gets you an amazingly expressive eye-roll and nothing else. 

"Gonna take that as a yes. Peregrine said you know my name?" 

A smile, this time. No friendliness in it; more like a dog showing its teeth before a snap. "Spades Slick." 

"Great. You got anything besides Handmaid? Not like you're in service to anyone here, after all." 

The girl's good—the only signs she shows of her surprise are small, damn near imperceptible even to you. She _is_ surprised, though, and maybe that's why she answers so easy. 

"Megido." 

That word...it's familiar, the opposite of your knowlege of anything Asian other than the fact that the continent exists. (Probably. You might be hazy on geography in general, since you're not really sure what any of the other continents are either.) The flip side of not knowing a metric ton of shit that you should know is knowing other things, and having the context for why you know them wholly lost. "Megido. The end of the world, huh?" 

Somehow you know that you're meant to see and understand the disgust in the subtle way her mouth twists. " _He_ thought it ironic. My name, and being in his service." 

"He." You're careful not to make it a question—somehow you don't think she'll take interrogation too well. 

But she answers. "Scratch." 

Oh. Damn. 

Kid's a hell of a lot older and likely more powerful than you were guessing, if she's the white bastard's handmaiden. Been dead for longer than you expected, too—it's been at least a decade since he went down. Later you'll have to try and contact Peregrine, ask her what the fuck is up with this situation so you can work on puzzling out whatever cryptid answer she decides to give you. 

Right now, though, you just want to leave Megido to settle in, so you carefully edge past her and out of the room. Once you're through, she steps inside and pulls the door shut behind herself. 

Halfway down the basement steps you realize that she took the knife out of your pocket when she brushed against you in the doorway. The gun's still in your other pocket, at least, but you still turn around and head back up. 

You should knock. Unfortunately you do not think of that until the door's already open, which means that here and now is the very first time Megido stabs you. 

At least it's not with the knife. You only know that it's not because she lets go of the long and not purely decorative hair needle as she takes a step back—pain flares in your arm, you curst and instinctively grab at the cause and pull hard, remembering just a second too late that pulling things that are stuck in you _out_ of you is generally regarded as not really a great idea. 

You do it anyway. Well, that's this shirt ruined. Jacket'll probably be fine, though—the hole's small enough that you don't think it even tore, and blood doesn't show on black. Also it hurts like a son of a bitch. You should probably do something about the hole in your arm. 

In this situation, _something_ is...continuing to swear at your idiot blood for not staying where it belongs and tossing the needle into your other hand so you can flatten your palm over the hole. Might as well _try_ to not bleed on the floor. 

Megido is staring at you, weirdly calm other than how wide her eyes have gone. You stop swearing long enough to hold up the blood-stained gilded needle. "Trade you?" 

"What." 

"You got one of my knives." Well, you're pretty sure it's actually Diamonds's knife, but close enough. "We'll outfit you if you want, but I'd like that specific one ba—" 

She produces the knife from some arcane and unknowable spot in the schoolgirl's outfit before you can finish your sentence. For a second you think she'll throw it to (or at) you; instead, she tosses it in the air, catches it by the blade, and offers it to you handle-first. 

You wipe your bloody hand off on your jacket—black is great for times like this—and accept the weapon. Then you hand her needle back, shove both hands in your pockets to make sure your belongings stay where they belong, and head back downstairs. 

It will not occur to you until much later that nothing in this exchange is even close to what anyone in their right mind would consider to be even slightly normal.


	2. Chapter 2

Having Megido in the house is like...well, no, you don't really have a decent frame of reference for it, but it's barely two days before she's used those needles on everyone in the house. Diamonds escapes it the longest, mostly because he's rarely the first one into any room. Hearts is the most unlucky of all of you; by the third time you have to fight him to get him to give the damn thing back. 

Three days in and all four of you have figured out that it's a good idea to start knocking before you enter a room. It doesn't _totally_ remove the possibility of an incident, but it knocks the probability way down. All of you start _looking_ , too—Megido's hard to notice, silent in a way that only comes with years of practice, able to back up against a wall, go still and damn near disappear. It's not magic, so far as you or any of the others can tell, but that just makes it all the more impressive. 

Or it would if you weren't pretty damn sure that she doesn't do it on purpose. Or if she didn't have that habit of retaliating when anyone approaches too close without acknowledging her first. Sort of hard to be impressed when you're bleeding, after all. And she stabs _deep_ , too—even with how fast your body heals, you're racking up a nice collection of sore spots. 

To add to the physical shit, you've got to deal with the fact that you're the one who's nearest to Megido's size, so it's _your_ clothes she steals. You guess you understand, but that doesn't mean you like it. It's not like you wouldn't buy her clothes if she asked, after all. 

But you don't take your clothes back. You don't react when she lashes out, and neither does the rest of the crew—she's here until the powers that be decide to relocate her, and there's not really any point in doing anything but learning how to work around that. 

Harder than it sounds, if you're being honest about it. _Frustrating_ , in a way that you haven't been frustrated in a long time. A week in and you're surprised at how angry you're starting to get—this ain't a normal reaction for you. At least you think it's not. Maybe it was the first time around, back when shit was more complicated. 

Less complicated?

Something like that. 

Anyway, you're examining yet another puncture wound (side of your wrist; Megido was closer to the pantry than you thought. You're not totally sure this one was your fault) when the doorbell chimes. 

You have to stop and think about that. Hearts steps out of the kitchen while you're still considering, directing a frown in your general direction. "You know you bled on the floor?" 

"No, but I'm not surprised. Did _you_ know this place has a doorbell?" 

"Huh. Really?" 

"Yeah." 

"You planning on getting it?" 

"I'm _bleeding._ " 

He thinks that over for a moment, then shrugs. "Hey, if it's someone trying to convert us, that should put 'em right off." 

Oh, fair. You wipe your hands off anyway—the point's to unsettle whoever it is, not get the cops called—and get up off the couch, heading for the door. The bell chimes again as you open it. 

That makes more sense when you see who's setting it off. "...Jr." 

The kid grins up at you, taking their finger off the button that you didn't know was there so they can start signing way too fast for your rudimentary vocabulary in this language to handle. Behind them, Dave starts translating. "They say hi—me too, by the way, long time no see—and that y'all really gotta work on like, actually asking for help instead of just having them 'n Seb figure out there's a problem because you dropped out of a campaign to handle somebody getting stabbed—" 

Alright, you're officially lost. That didn't take long. "What." 

Jr tugs on your arm to get your attention again. Then they make one of the four signs you're totally sure about—first and second fingers of both hands pressed tip-to-tip, spread out to make the shape of a diamond—wait for you to nod, and spell out _D-A-N-D-D._

Huh. "Dandd." 

"D 'n D," the actual adult Strider corrects. "Dungeons and dragons—it's like, a game—" 

"I know what D 'n D is. Sort of." You rub at the bridge of your nose (and mumble a curse when you feel sticky wetness transfer itself from your fingers to your face. Guess you weren't quite done bleeding yet.) "Diamonds is playing that with your kids, huh?" 

" _Technically_ Jr and Seb are Hal's, and Gale's not actually a kid at this point—" 

"Gale's the mage, right? Yeah, they're a kid. You 'n your demon too, when you come down to it." Speaking of which... "Wait. Where is he?" 

Dave opens his mouth to answer. Hesitates, holds up three fingers. Folds one down. Another. 

You realize it's a countdown as he folds down the last one, but by then it's too late to prepare for the experience of seeing one of the shadowns against the side of the house abruptly darken, expand, and resolve itelse into the demon in question. 

Two demons, actually. You recognize Vantas, but the other one, not so much. He's not someone you think you'd forget, either—tall, wearing a purple tank top that puts the white skeletal tattoos across damn near all of his dark skin on display, white dreadlocks pulled back into something between a ponytail and an intricate knot—but he's still a mystery. An intimidating one, if you plan on being honest. 

Violet eyes, too. They fix on you for a moment, and you actually have an issue with being able to force yourself to not look away. 

The sharp gasp from behind you gives you an excuse to do that without technically backing down, though. It damn near also gets you skewered again—even though you catch Megido halfway through the movement of reaching up for the needles holding her hair in place, you still barely have time to sidestep before she throws the first one. 

The tattooed demon, on the other hand, doesn't move from his spot even though he's the target. One of his dreadlocks twists out of its place, whipping around to intercept both needles maybe three inches before they would've reached his face. The sound they make on impact is much too solid for that to be just hair. 

**Demoness.**

You have to resist the temptation to rub at your ears. Telepathy's always made you itchy. 

Megido doesn't seem to have that problem. (Or if she does, she doesn't show it.) "Speaker," she answers, more quietly than you've heard her speak before. 

**Not anymore, lil' sister. He's dead and I'm Kurloz now.**

" _You_ were always Kurloz." She huffs and starts twisting her hair back up—pulling the needles out that quickly seems to have destabilized the arrangement. It's longer than you expected, falling well past her waist. "Give them back now." 

**Keep them in your hair, then.** Kurloz yanks the needles free—again, there's more resistance than you expect; can you really call that a dreadlock if it's not hair?—and holds them out, not moving to step forward. **I'm here as a favor to lil' sib, not to take you back.**

"There is no, 'back,'" Dave adds. 

"There kind of is," Karkat corrects him. "We still do have the orb from that fucker somewhere." 

"Oh yeah, that's right, huh? I think Hal had it last, he probably knows where it is. Maybe storage—" 

"No idea who you are." Megido nudges you aside so she can step forward to take her needles back from Kurloz. (You check your weapons as soon as she's not actively touching you. Yep, everything's still there.) "Not old enough to have been his for long, though—still too human." 

Dave grins at that. For a second that's so brief that you think you might've imagined it, his eyes flash redder than what you think is usual. "Yeah, mostly." 

**They weren't ever his,** Kurloz explains. **He's the survivor.**

Her head tilts. "Your messiahs?" 

**Noh, just the human. His brother was the other.** When the demon smiles, you realize that most of the marks around his mouth aren't tattoos but scars. **I cheated. Just a lil' bit.**

"So you killed him." 

**Eh, set things up so they could.** Kurloz shrugs, a motion that's echoed in the long white dreadlocks that've been slowly unwinding from how he had them tied back. God damn that's just not right. **You know _we_ could never touch him.**

"She tried, though." Dave again; his eyes are still pretty much human, but glassy and unfocused. "Over and over—god, even you lost count, didn't you? And he never got tired of punishing you, taking something away every goddamn time..." 

Karkat growls. It's embarassing that you're the only one who flinches; other than Kurloz moving to the side so the red-eyed demon can step up behind Dave and wrap his arms over his shoulders, no one else even reacts. "Snap out of it, babe." 

"Oh." Dave twitches, blinks and shakes his head. Takes him a minute to wipe the look of sorrow from his face, though. "Lil' deep there, yeah, but it's what we're here to do." 

"You're in my head on _purpose._ " Megido's tone holds pure disbelief—she's not making even a token effort to hide the fact she thinks that's an exceptionally stupid choice. "And you're an empath." 

"Uh-huh." 

"Not a telepath." 

"Only with Karkat." 

She stares at him for a moment, then turns to you. "This one's cracked, Spades." 

She doesn't use your name often; this time it's enough to startle you into the laugh that you'd usually smother. "Yeah, no kidding. Whole family's like that." 

And she actually smiles as she glances down at Jr, who's by now got their phone out and is absorbed in it instead of the two (three?) demons, empath, and whatever the hell you are. "Even the little ones?" 

This time it's Kurloz who chuckles. **Oh, lil' sister, _especially_ the lil' ones...are you going to invite us in, Slick, or are you planning on coming out?**

He does have a point. "Yeah, fine. Come on in."

* * *

The human and the demon disappear with Megido into her room near immediately. Jr takes off downstairs—you're really hoping they're looking for Diamonds to discuss their game, not planning on summoning Peregrine. (Again.) Which leaves...

You, in the main room with Kurloz. He seems satisfied with that. You're not sure you are, but it's not like you can just leave him in here. 

**You planning on just staring at me until they're done?**

Damn. "Haven't really decided yet." 

He shakes his head, and steps across to the chair that Hearts likes to store ammo under. There must not be any _in_ the chair right now, because Kurloz shows no signs of discomfort as he drapes himself across it like it's his damn throne. Are all demons like this. **Well, that'd be a motherfuckin' stupid decision to make, since we both know you got questions.**

Oh. Yeah. Those. "Megido—you called her your sister." 

**We were both that motherfucker's puppets.** He shrugs and leans further back, hair twisting in a way that makes you think of a cat stretching. **Tends to breed a special kind of warm familial fuzzies.**

"I'll bet." 

**Yeah, it really helped that we both spent a lot of time wanting to kill him.** Kurloz's eyes half-close, just a sliver of suddently luminous violet showing. **I don't think rubbing that's going to make it feel any better, by the way.**

You didn't realize you _were_ rubbing at the most recent spot Megido's stabbed you until he pointed it out. Now that you do know, you make yourself stop and shove your hands in your pockets so you don't start up again. "So that's where the stabbing thing came from?" 

**Not that it ever did much. Demons and his creatures, we never could hurt him.**

"Oh, yeah. You called her a demoness." 

**No.**

"What?" 

**Not _a_ demoness. _The_ Demoness.** Kurloz opens his eyes and gives you a wry smile. What the hell are those scars even from? **You thought she'd go by Handmaid?**

"I mean, _I_ sure as hell ain't calling her that." 

He actually makes a sound at that, the first real noise you've heard from him—a soft, thoughtful hum. **You _do_ call her Megido. How'd someone like you learn that one?**

Huh. Interesting. "Told her I wasn't about to call her something she wasn't." 

**Ah.** Kurloz pauses for a moment, thinking that over. **She stabbed you for that, right?**

"Nah. Don't think she's stabbed any of us _for_ anything." Sure, there's always a reason for it, but you'd file each and every incident under cause and effect rather than any rational or irrational retaliation. 

His eyes are glowing again. You don't think you like that. 

**I'm staying out of your deep, dark secrets, don't worry.**

It takes you a minute to work out what exactly he means by that. "God damn it. You're not just a sender, huh." 

**Full-service telepath. Can't get much better than this.**

"Uh-huh, sure. Get out of my head." There might not be a lot of shit in there that you care about keeping under cover, but you've got principles and you intend to stick to them. 

**Don't be a bitch.** It's interesting how his tone doesn't seem to have changed, but you can still feel the amusement in that one. **Can't a motherfucker be curious?**

"About what?" 

**What you are, mostly. Normal people ain't that fine with being stabbed, you know.**

"Yeah, well. I'm old-school." 

Kurloz stares at you for a moment. Then he starts laughing, soft chuckles muffled a bit more as one tattooed hand comes up over his mouth. You don't see what's so damn funny. 

You're about to tell him as much when Jr slips back into the room, waving at you on their way to stand in front of Kurloz. He straightens up in the chair, focusing on the kid's hands as they sign out what seems to be a very long and very complicated message. 

Takes a good couple minutes. When J huffs and drops their hands back to their sides, Kurloz looks up at you and smiles. At this point, you're starting to expect that the only reason he does that so often is because he knows you don't like it. 

**Any of you four want to spend some time at the mall?**


	3. Chapter 3

You confer with the other three. The only one you even halfway expect to be interested in leaving the house is Clubs, and it turns out he's halfway through...something. You're not really sure what, but it seems to involve spray paint. In the house. 

Yeah, that ain't safe. Not that you're going to be the one to stop him—he hasn't hit the disaster point _yet_ , and Diamonds is in charge while you're out. _He_ can deal with it; you're going shopping. 

Maybe you should append "unfortunately" to that. It remains to be seen. 

You should really stop bitching and get your ass out to the car. Strider's car, as it turns out; if you had a choice you might prefer yours, but Jr's already in the backseat of the stupid black truck and Megido's perched on the tailgate, so you guess you're automatically outvoted. Kurloz is no longer anywhere to be seen. At least, you don't think he is; you get distracted pretty damn quick, as soon as you take a good look at Megido.

See, her hair's down. Braided back, not loose, but... "Damn it. Give them back." 

Dave's sprawled across what of the backseat Jr's not using; he sits up at your demand, head cocking to one side. "Wow, you're pissed." 

"Yeah, no shit. Her needles; hand 'em over." Sure, you like the idea of not having to risk being stabbed every time you enter a room, but. _But_. "She's got a right to defend herself." 

Jr giggles and drops their phone to sign something. Dave just sighs. "Yeah, I'll pay you when we get home, alright?" 

Well that doesn't seem to be directed at you. "What." 

"Shikigami bet the empath you'd defend me." Megido sounds almost bored. She looks it, too, seemingly absorbed in rearranging the individual strands of hair in the tail of her braid. "They owe _me_ half the take." 

Huh. At least she knows you're on her side. "You sure you're okay with this?" 

She just shrugs. It's Karkat who answers you, as he looks up from digging through the center console in the front seat. 

"Look at it this way—she's going to be with a cockatrice, two demons, a shikigami who's a hell of a lot more dangerout than they look, Dave, and you. Can you really get much safer than that?" 

Huh. "...guess not." 

"I also have a knife," Megido points out, producing said knife from somewhere in her jacket. Well, your jacket. Whatever. Huh, funny—you don't recognise that knife. You're pretty sure nobody in the house owns one with a pearl handle _and_ red accents. 

Dave, though? He twists around to look at her and immediately groans. " _Dude_ , c'mon. That was a gift." 

"And it will be a gift again when I give it back to you. I can buy myself one at the mall, yes?" 

From the frustrated sound he makes, you somehow don't think Dave's all that satisfied with that answer.

* * *

You watch Megido in the rearview the whole drive. She's not so much tense as twitchy—looks out the window the whole time, head snapping back and forth. Reminds you of a bird dog on the hunt, actually. 

When the hell did you even see that to know what it looks like? You don't even know what breed a bird dog would be. Huh. 

Anyway, you can't tell if she really is as okay with this whole shebang as she claims she is. Going by the look she gives you when she catches you looking, she ain't about to let you find out one way or the other. 

Not that you stop. Well, not until Karkat starts cussing at what seems to be the impossibility of finding a parking space.

* * *

First stop, once the truck's parked, is...the dumpster around back. Go figure. At least a foray into the actual dumpster itself doesn't seem to be necessary; the goal's next to it. Near it. Whatever. The dumpster's semi-hidden from view by a shitty brick wall maybe ten feet high; Kurloz is leaning against it, and there's a vaguely familiar kid perched at the top. From here he looks sort of like Dave, but younger and not quite so pale. 

"That's another Strider, huh." 

"Yeah, he got the perching gene, same as Hal. Different source though." Dave grins up at the kid for a second, then glances over at Kurloz. "Did you help him up there, or..." 

**You really think I need to?** The demon shakes his head, straightening up and turning to look upwards. **Come on down, lil' bro.**

It's only ten feet, but that's ten feet down from a wall that ain't all that wide in the first place. Ten feet onto solid concrete, and sure, Dave doesn't seem concerned or even surprised when the kid rolls to his feet and spreads his arms wide, but _you_ sure as hell are. 

He doesn't really _jump._ Can't really say he falls either—he leans forward, past his balance point, and you realize that it's not just his arms outstretched but wings, wide and orange-feathered and phasing in and out of existance in that signature way that only shows up when magic's being used to hide shit. 

Again, you should probably not be so okay with this. Although you suppose that if you were _fully_ okay with it, you wouldn't flinch. 

When you look again, the kid's safely on the ground and his wings are all the way gone. The only sign that something's off are orange eyes that you'd bet match his feathers perfectly, the smattering of bright orange freckles across his nose, and how his fine white hair isn't _entirely_ hair. What is it with all these assholes and weird hair, anyway?

Nevermind. Not the point. The kid looking you over with all the calm interest of a professional profiler is the point of this moment. You return the favor...and yeah, he does look pretty much like Dave. Younger, more delicate—but you're pretty sure that _wings_ and _delicacy_ go together, at least on anyone who's born with ones that're meant to function. 

"You're the dude who kidnapped Jr that one time," he says finally. 

You are not sure what you're supposed to say to something like that. "Yeah." 

Amazingly, that seems to be the right response; the kid grins, his nose scrunching up a bit as he holds out his hand. "Cool—I'm Davesprite, you're Spades, right? I'm supposed to be in charge of keeping the Demoness—" 

"Megido." 

"Oh, like Damara? But anyway, I'm in charge of making sure she doesn't get busted for shoplifting." 

What. "She's not going to shoplift." 

Kurloz facepalms. Davesprite and Dave exchange a look that you almost with wasn't quite so obvious. 

Megido's the one who ends up correcting you, though. "I am _definitely_ going to shoplift." 

"Well...damn." 

Jr taps your wrist. When you look down, they give you a thumb's-up. 

"Don't think that's as reassuring as you think it is, kid." 

"Is it better if I'm the one who does it?" Dave asks. 

At this point, you're pretty sure that everyone here is straight-out baiting you, but why not reply anyway. "No." 

"Eh, that's fair. Come on, let's go let the kids have some fun."

* * *

Megido, Jr, and Davesprite go right, at the first branch in the hallway. Dave and Karkat aren't even with the group anymore—fifty feet and they've already taken off. You'd follow the kids, but Kurloz takes your arm and guides you to the left instead. 

Now, you _know_ he knows your feelings on getting grabbed for no reasons. Guy's been inside your head, after all. The fact he's willing to chance getting stabbed anyway is—

Wait. "Oh god damn it." 

**She get your knife?**

"Yeah, she got my knife. Maybe you shouldn't be saying it out loud here, though. Just a thought." 

Kurloz lets go of your arm so he can use that hand to cover a laugh. **Out loud. Really?**

Oh. Huh. "Nobody can hear you when you do that, huh?" 

**Just you. Don't worry, though.** He nods, prompting you to look down and see that he's signing as he talks. **Should keep anyone from assuming you've just lost it.**

"I'm out here with you, so I think it's safe to say I _have_ lost it." 

**We're not _that_ bad.**

"Uh-huh, sure. Hunters are insane and demons are...well, you might not be as bad as they are, come to think of it. Still more drama than I want to get mixed up in either way." 

Kurloz gives you a doubtful sideways glance. **Weren't you the one who met the Striders by trying to kidsnatch Trizza Tethis?**

Damn. "That ain't a word." 

**You know exactly what I mean.** He waves one hand at you, stopping short of actually touching thanks to the glare you give him. **_And_ you were planning on blackmailing Piexes.**

"So what?" 

**Can't get much more insane than that family.**

He's not wrong. "Shut up." 

**I didn't say a word. Can't get much more dramatic than them either, you know.**

"Fuck _off_." Someone makes a scandalized sound as they pass you. Guess you might have deserved that. "Where'd Strider and Vantas get off to, anyway?" 

Kurloz shrugs, spreading his hands. **They like going to movies. Are you changing the subject?**

"Maybe." 

**Good luck with that.**

"Hey, if you keep this assholery up I'm finding that knife store and buying you one just to stab you with." 

He snorts, actually showing his teeth in a brief grin. They're not what you expected—one of the front ones is chipped, the canines just a bit crooked. Human, but imperfect—not like he shapechanged them from something more unsettling. **Been there, done that, got the motherfucking t-shirt. You're not the only one who's old-school.**

"Yeah, whatever. Help me figure out where the hell I can buy a knife before I decide to start asking people, alright?"

* * *

If there's an actual dedicated knife store, Kurloz refuses to direct you to it. Not that that stops you; finding a sporting goods store isn't all that difficult, and they've got a whole case full of assorted knives, enough for a decent half hour of perusal. 

The employee who draws the short straw of helping you complete your purchase stays pretty damn upbeat for the whole process, though. Maybe it's the novelty—somehow you doubt that this place has a lot of customers who test each knife they consider for weight, quality...balance. She flinches the first couple times you toss an open folding knife into the air. Doesn't tell you to stop, though, and doesn't kick you out, and in the end you leave with one black-handled beauty with a watered steel blade that'll be living in your pockets for a while, a cute lil' number with a diamond cut out of the blade that you'll be handing over to Diamonds, and a matched pair with a platinum-wash finish. 

That last pair's too thin for your taste, but that very quality makes them perfect for stashing where nobody's going to look. Medigo should like them, you think. 

Half an hour still ain't enough time for Megido and the kids to be done, according to Kurloz. You waste some time wandering around trying to guess what the hell the shops sell going only by the names (harder than it should be, by the way) and a bit more seriously considering the purchase of a full-length mirror you catch sight of in an antique shop. 

It is _not_ an antique. You're pretty sure you had it, or one just like it, in your first life. 

You end up not buying it mostly because you don't know how much longer the kids are going to take, and you don't really want to carry the damn thing around that long. And yes, you complain about the antique thing as Kurloz directs you away from the offending storefront. You complain at great length and in great detail, with the effect that you only realize he's got a definite goal in mind when he gives you one last shove and drops into an empty chair at a half-filled table. 

**Spades, shut the fuck up.**

" _You_ shut up." It's automatic, but you're already scanning your surroundings. Probably should've been doing that this whole time. "Shit, Megido." 

"Good shit?" She gives you a smile that's too sweetly normal to not be performative, nudging one of the two empty chairs between hers and Davesprite's out for you. Across the table, Kurloz is still settling into his; the kids must've arranged this table before you showed up, since it's the only one in this cafeteria with five chairs instead of four. 

"Yeah, definitely good." You take the seat she's offering, taking another couple seconds to look her over. Her hair's still braided, but it's been redone since you saw her last—the sides've been shaved close to her scalp, the top left long and rebraided, pinned up into an intricate coil. The black suit she took out of your closet's been replaced with one that's actually fitted to her, deep red that matches the lipstick she's picked up somewhere. 

It's...definitely a look. The smear of glitter actoss one cheek adds something to it, but you're not quite sure what. It does remind you of your own purchase, though, and you lean back to dip a hand into your pocket. "Here, got these for you." 

"Oh, thoughtful?" Her tone's calm, but those dark eyes flicker with interest as she examines the two knives, snapping one open to check the blade before shutting it again and tucking them both away in a pocket. (Hopefully a pocket. You guess that she's probably got other places to stash them. Not going to pursue that line of thought any further, thanks.) "Little one's getting food." 

"We didn't actually know what you'd eat," Davesprite adds from across the table. As far as you can tell, his only purchase is a red-studded tiara, and you only know about that because he's wearing it. Funny, you didn't know you could get those here. "So like, they're kind of just getting a variety." 

"Sounds fine. How much of that did you steal, anyway?" 

Megido just shrugs; Davesprite laughs. It takes you to second to realize that it is a laugh; it's a surprisingly rough sound from someone who looks good in a tiara. 

"Jr and I caught everything but the lipstick," he says, leaning back a bit in his chair. "She's _good_ , though—nobody even looked at us funny. Well, not for that, anyway. And we got everything paid for before she got anywhere near the door—" 

"What." You do not understand how the hell these kids could manage that. 

Davesprite glances over at Kurloz. The demon shrugs. **Tell him as much as you want, lil' bro. He's been dead, he knows what's up.**

Having that bright amber gaze fully directed at you for more than an instant is...downright unsettling. "Oh hey, neat—another dude who can't say YOLO." 

"I can't say what now?" _That_ is definitely not a word. "Does this have anything to do with the stealth skills you kids apparently have?" 

This time it's Damara who laughs, low and quiet and leagues more honest than her smile. "Russian stealth, maybe." 

"Excuse _you,_ I don't have to kill people to make them forget me. That's Davepeta's style." 

You have to ask. "Why the hell do all of you start with _Dave,_ exactly?" 

**Shenanigans.** Kurloz tips his chair back on two legs. You don't think that's allowed, either by whoever runs the mall or by the laws of physics. **Good job at sidetracking him, by the way.**

"Hey, I'm good at that shit. Dirk's a great teacher." 

You didn't even realize that was what he was doing. Impressive. "Not telling me works too, you know. Especially if you feed me." 

Megido laughs, again. Two in one sitting? Unheard of. "Patience is a virtue." 

"Explains why I don't have any." 

She laughs _again._ Despite the fact that you started it by being stabbed, you guess today is a very good day.


End file.
